Vision
by spottedhorse
Summary: Brass has to tell his side of a story.


Don't own the show or Jim Brass. The network and producers and all can keep the show, I just want Jim Brass, lol.

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"So I got a call to a homicide," Captain Jim Brass said quietly. "And besides the victim, there was this woman…ah, fortyish, dark blonde…uh, attractive," he continued uncomfortably. Then he tugged at his collar, loosening his tie and sighed. "She um, she was sitting on the sofa… tears running down her face and…I dunno, looking kind of…lost. The uniform, the first on the scene, filled me in and I was watching her as she sat there. I dunno, she just…there was something about her…"

"Can you better define what it was?"

Brass sighed. "Well, yeah…now. But at the time, I didn't know."

"Know what?"

"She was blind. She didn't have the wandering eyes like a lot of blind people have. She just seemed to be staring. And…like I said, she looked lost."

"So…she seemed vulnerable?"

Tugging at his collar again, Jim swept the floor with his eyes. "Ah, yeah…I suppose."

"So is that what captured your attention?"

Jim thought about it a moment, his eyebrows an outward expression of his inner activity. "Maybe."

"You're drawn to vulnerable women?"

"Yeah…no, I dunno…maybe," he conceded reluctantly.

"Then what?"

"So I introduced myself and she told me her name and I asked if she had seen what happened."

"Poor choice of words…"

"Yeah," Brass grunted. "But like I said, I didn't realize she was blind. Anyway, she said no, she hadn't seen but she had heard and she began to tell me."

"And that was it."

"No," the detective drawled out. "She hesitated and then told me she didn't like talking with people that she didn't know." He paused, lost in his own thoughts.

"And?"

"And I was surprised. I mean, why would she expect to know me? And then she laughed, kind of…and then she said maybe she wanted to know me. It was then that I began to realize that maybe she wasn't just staring." Clinching his fingers, Jim continued. "She um, must have sensed my confusion because she chuckled and then told me she was blind. And then…" he swallowed deeply but it was a slight twitch in his neck that gave away his discomfort with sharing the memory. "Then she asked if she could look at me. It surprised me. I mean, she was blind…how could she _look_ at me?"

"How did she accomplish that?"

"She um…well, first she asked permission to touch my face and then…she used her fingers to get a picture of me." He closed his eyes as the memory of the sensation of her touch flowed through him. His initial discomfort was quickly replaced by something else…something he couldn't really define. But her touch had been probing and yet tender. He remembered blushing at first and how cool her fingertips felt against his flushed skin. He could almost feel her fingers again as they explored his face, roamed over his ears and through his hair. "She um…smiled and teased me about my hair, telling me I had a very high forehead; a sign of intelligence, she said," he grinned as he remembered.

"It sounds very…personal."

"It …yeah, in a way it was…intimate, certainly more than any other initial introduction I've ever had."

"And how did you feel?"

"Feel? I…it was a murder investigation…"

"Yeah, but when she touched you, how did you feel?"

He sighed. "Like I never wanted it to end…"

"But it did."

"It did. And, I asked a few more questions and then handed her my card and told her to call me of she thought of anything else. Then I was embarrassed because…you know, she couldn't read it, of course."

"Did she know you were embarrassed?"

Nodding, he answered. "Yeah, she did. She covered it though…said she'd have someone read the number for her…that she intended to call whether she remembered anything or not…"

"Like a social call?"

"Yes. And I told her that she was a witness in an ongoing investigation and that wouldn't be appropriate. And then she…she said the investigation wouldn't go on forever."

"And did she call?"

"Yeah. And we met for coffee…after the case was closed, of course."

"Of course."

"And then I took her to dinner…and um…one thing led to another and…well, I guess you could say we were dating," he said with a little surprise in his voice.

"That surprised you?"

"Well, yeah. She was…beautiful and a lot younger and…I'm not."

"But she didn't seem bothered by any of that."

"I don't think she knew how beautiful she was. Anyway, things were getting…serious, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Uh…I was…falling for her."

"And?"

"And I'd taken her to a show…Celine Dion; she liked Celine. And we were leaving and…a suspect in a case spotted me…and…" tears began threaten his eyes. "And he pulled out a gun and aimed…and I tried …I tried to pull her behind me but…I wasn't quick enough and his bullet went wide…and…" he gulped for air.

"And?"

He glared at his inquisitioner. "The bullet hit her; it was intended for me but it hit her," he answered as grief shuddered through him.

Silence settled over the room except for the ticking of a clock on the credenza behind the desk. For Jim Brass, it didn't matter as his mind was replaying the scene. "I…held her…as she…died," he said finally in a whisper.

The clock continued to tick.

"She reached up to touch my face…and she…she asked me what color my eyes are. Blue, I told her. And then, as she ran her fingers over my face again… she um…she told me that…that I'm beautiful," he said as his voice broke. He could hear her sweet voice; _you're beautiful Jim Brass…the most beautiful man I've ever known. _He took a moment to recover and then continued. "No," I told her…"I'm not…but you are…so beautiful." Once again he swallowed, this time choking back tears. "But she insisted…and she put her hand over my heart and told me that it was there, in my heart…" He stopped, unable to say anything more.

"Did you love her?"

"I…like I said, I was falling. If we'd had more time…"

"Captain Brass, this is going to take some time to get over." Jim rolled his eyes. "But you know that already," the counselor continued. "I'm recommending that you take some time off to grieve. She was obviously very special…someone you care for deeply."

"Yeah…I did…do," he whispered the last.

"What was her name?"

"Kara…Kara Davis…why?"

"Just…asking. So, I'll see you again next week?"

"Yeah, sure…don't have a choice, do I?"

"No, you don't," the counselor said firmly.

Jim walked out into the sunlight and slid his sunglasses onto his face. His hand paused over his chin as he recalled the feel of her hand on him. He ached for the feel of her hands, the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her smile…

Her voice was in his head as he unlocked his car door. _You're beautiful Jim Brass…_ He climbed in his car and settled behind the wheel. And then he wept.

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So, I'm in the middle of writing another chapter for Crazy and watching a rerun of Hog Heaven and something about Jim and Rita Nettles spurred this story in my head. Don't know where it came from...it just did. As always, I'm interested to hear what you think.


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